


A Work of Art Dies Not

by vvitchering (Witchering)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, emotional discussions, geraskier if you squint, secretly artistic geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22997008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchering/pseuds/vvitchering
Summary: Jaskier asks Geralt what he would have done with his life, if being a witcher hadn’t been his path.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 29
Kudos: 297





	A Work of Art Dies Not

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, we die like witchers.

One of the first things Jaskier learns about Geralt of Rivia is how closely he guards his personal details. Jaskier, chatty by nature and an open book about his own life, takes a while to find his footing when it comes to needling the witcher for details. Geralt is much like a stubborn nut; his “angry witcher” shell protecting the tender and vulnerable personality inside, Jaskier muses. He can’t press too much or too hard or he might crush the newly formed trust he has with Geralt. He’s worked hard to get where he is, so he’s not about to throw all of their progress away over simple nosiness. 

But the curiosity festers even as Jaskier tries his best to ignore it. Geralt, like the rest of his brethren, didn’t choose to become what he is. Jaskier’s knowledge of witchers is only marginally more than the average person’s. He knows they’re not the heartless monsters they’re made out to be in the texts. That much is easy enough to glean from spending even a short while in Geralt’s presence. For all his claims of wanting to stay out of situations that don’t directly concern him, he’s constantly risking his life in the hopes that it might save another. The mutations that give Geralt the power to help others did not take his emotions from him, but they did take other precious things away, such as Geralt’s youth, his agency, his ability to  _ choose. _ It’s likely to be a sore subject, even now, so Jaskier knows better than to ask about that particular chapter of Geralt’s story. But there might be another, safer, avenue to explore that still scratches his itch to know more, if he can just phrase it correctly.

“Can you believe there was a point in my life when I seriously considered the idea of becoming a scholar? Can you imagine? Stuck in one place, the same people every day, the same lectures time after time, I’m almost bored to tears just thinking about it.”

Geralt, as usual, doesn’t respond beyond a quiet grunt, but it at least means he’s listening. They’re setting up camp for the evening, as they’re too far from the next town to make it before dark and Geralt is wary of traveling at night with a civilian. Jaskier knows the witcher could keep him safe just as well with or without the sun’s help with those enhanced senses of his, but he appreciates Geralt’s strange way of justifying accommodations for him all the same. 

He drops an armful of the driest sticks he could find next to the circle of rocks Geralt has placed to create their campfire and dusts his hands on his pants. 

“Do you ever think about things like that?” he ventures, turning to face Geralt, who is in the process of pulling the last of their camping gear from Roach’s saddlebags. 

“Witchers don’t attend universities, bard.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I meant the bit about wondering about other opportunities. Other careers.”

Geralt pauses to shoot Jaskier a narrow eyed look. Jaskier maintains eye contact. Show no fear. 

“There were no other opportunities for me. I’ve told you before, you don’t retire from being a witcher. You get old, slow, and then you die. That’s it.”

“Yes, yes, of course, but we’re discussing hypotheticals here, not reality. If you could choose a different path, imagine any other possibility for your life, what would it be?”

Geralt pointedly ignores the question and goes back to his work without even a grunt of acknowledgement. Damn. Jaskier has failed to crack the nut, but he’s sure he’s at least made some progress. Geralt used to growl at him to mind his own business if he even came close to asking something resembling a personal question. He still hadn’t given anything close to answer, but Jaskier can see the thoughtful look on his face as he tosses a bedroll to him and stomps off to start the fire. 

  
  


\--

It’s weeks later before the subject is brought up again. This time finds Jaskier and Geralt packing away their meager camp, exhausted from a sleepless and stressful night. Geralt spent the entire evening chasing wraiths away from their campsite while Jaskier cowered within the questionably safer confines of a salt circle. Effectiveness of household spices as wards aside, the night had been miserable and long. Jaskier is in the middle of swearing off spending the night in the outdoors for the rest of his days, cost be damned, when he notices Geralt staring at him. In Geralt-speech, a stare can mean several things: Geralt wants him to shut up but is trying to be nice, Geralt has spotted something dangerous lurking just behind him, or, rarest of all, Geralt is waiting for his turn to say something. 

“You asked me once if I ever thought about what my life could have been, if I’d had a choice.”

“I did. I’m still interested in hearing your answer, if you have one.”

Geralt turns and Jaskier notices the leather-bound book he has in his hands. It’s small, obviously old and worn, and Jaskier has never seen it before. With how little Geralt owns and how often the two of them travel together, it surprises Jaskier that Geralt has managed to keep this object so secret. The witcher fidgets with the strap that holds the book closed as if he’s  _ nervous. _ Geralt so rarely allows himself to show any signs of weakness, especially around others, that Jaskier fears for a moment what he’s about to show him. What could possibly make a man like Geralt twitch like a guilty child? 

Seemingly before he can change his mind, Geralt hands the book over to Jaskier. He refuses to meet his eyes. Jaskier almost doesn’t want to take it. Almost. 

The book has weight in his hands. It must be made of good quality paper with a thick protective binding. It’s minimally decorative, some embellishment along the spine, and a few embossed designs along the outer edges of the leather. Up close he can see just how worn it is. The leather is soft and wrinkled where it bends when opened, betraying either how long Geralt has had it or how often he uses it. There’s no title, no author, no writing of any kind to identify what sort of book it might be. A journal perhaps? Jaskier can’t see Geralt taking the time or having the patience to chronicle anything in writing, let alone facts about his own life, but he’s experienced stranger things. He unwraps the strap from around the book and finally opens it. 

He can feel Geralt’s eyes on him, taking in his reaction to what he’s seeing, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the pages open in front of him. It’s not a notebook or a journal,  _ it's a sketchbook. _ Calling the lovingly rendered images on the pages sketches seems incorrect, somehow. They’re at once incredibly detailed and true to life, but all the while maintaining a sense of the artist’s,  _ Geralt’s _ , style. A rose that Jaskier can almost imagine in color despite being done in greyscale graphite. Various herbs and plants Jaskier recognizes as the ones most important to the creation of Geralt’s witcher potions. Roach’s gentle eyes gazing back at him from multiple angles. The book is almost completely filled by the images Geralt has created; the important things in his life all collected together by his own hand. The last page reveals a half completed sketch of something so familiar it makes Jaskier’s breath catch. 

It’s his very own lute. Even only halfway finished, he recognizes the shape and the beginnings of the intricate elven carvings that decorate the instrument. 

Geralt is deathly silent through it all. When Jaskier finally looks up from the drawings, he finds the witcher looking pale and unnerved, as if Jaskier holds something infinitely precious and fragile that Geralt would dearly like to snatch back and hide away in safety again. And it suddenly hits Jaskier that Geralt has handed him something far more personal than a story about some fantasized other life. 

  
  


_ “There were no other opportunities for me.” _

  
  


“I think I might’ve liked to be an artist. A painter, or something.” Geralt finally says, his deep voice startling Jaskier out of his reverie. 

Words are Jaskier’s lifeblood, but he finds for once that he has none to offer, none that measure up.

“Dunno if it's just the training or something that comes from me, but I’m good at noticing things people miss. There’s little details everywhere and I remember them. They’re all important. Recreating them comes easy.” Geralt continues. 

Jaskier glances back down at the incomplete lute and smiles.

“It’s wonderful, Geralt. Truly. All of it. Thank you for sharing it with me.” 

The color has come back to Geralt’s face, pinkening his cheeks a bit suspiciously. He takes the book back from Jaskier’s hands and quickly packs it away in his bag. 

Jaskie clears his throat and steps a bit closer to the witcher.

“Well, look at you, hiding such a remarkable talent from me all this time! I could feel it the moment we met, you and I are kindred spirits! Two creative souls brought together by destiny herself!”

“Hmm.”

“Not that I’m not thrilled you shared this with me, but why now? Clearly you’ve been at this a while. What made today special?” Jaskier asks.

“Blame it on exhaustion. Temporary insanity. You are  _ not _ allowed to sing about this, bard. Understand?” Geralt responds, the small uptick of his lips betraying his amusement. 

Jaskier gasps in feigned outrage.

“As if I would betray your trust in such a way! I’m insulted you would even assume I’d do such a thing...actually, it would make a rather spectacular ending to my latest masterpiece, just the right amount of emotional ‘oomph’ and relatability I’ve been trying to convey, are you really sure I can’t use this, Geralt? Hey! Don’t walk away from me while I’m speaking to you! This is important!”

“Finish packing your shit, Jaskier. Destiny awaits.”

“You’re an absolute ass, you know that?”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My first official fic for this fandom is here :') I've been writing little things for a few weeks on twitter but haven't been able to develop anything to the point where I felt like I could post it here as a finished product. And yes, I know Geralt canonically is NOT good at art. In this house we appreciate canon but we do not always agree with it. Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, I have all of my short threads collected on twitter @vvitchering Maybe I'll be talked into expanding on another idea soon!


End file.
